


The Killing Kind

by MxSalad



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Also Because I Said So, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor Has Anxiety, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Fake Marriage, Gen, M/M, Markus Has Arthritis, Mutual Pining, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Whump, because I said so, probably...dumb boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-12-21 13:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21075638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxSalad/pseuds/MxSalad
Summary: Sometimes everyone's favorite android detective goes on a walk by himself. And sometimes, things go sour.It's alright though, things will get sweet.....eventually.In which Connor and Markus end up in a fake engagement because politics and circumstances and because I said so, so there!





	1. Springtime Stroll

**Author's Note:**

> A big stinky sappy thank you to my dear friends at the pumpkin patch. You goobers are the best

Early spring mist covered Detroit in a shimmer of dewdrops. Connor walked slowly down the street, taking in the sight. In the months following the November revolution, he rarely made it so far northwest from the border of New Jericho. His work with Markus and the others kept them all close to home.

_ Home._ Now there was a thought still unfamiliar to him. He spent weeks at the DPD, acting as a liaison between the police force and the android leaders in those early days of occupying Hart Plaza. Settling in at New Jericho had been a challenge, but he was never one to shy away from those.

Humans slowly moved back in since the initial evacuation during the revolution. Despite that, the streets were nearly empty. Life flourished in other forms. Birds sang. The city glittered. Blossom buds burgeoned out from beneath dried leaves and branches.

Hank told Connor one of his old haunts had finally reopened: a traditional deli that still cured its meat the old fashioned way. The uptick in looting as people reentered the city kept Hank too busy to visit it himself. He grumbled about that fact frequently. Connor thought maybe a gift of smoked ham would cheer him up. He turned off the main road onto an old brick pathway, an antique strip of shops and apartments, not yet eaten up by the latest wave of industry. Connor arrived prior to opening hours. Hank had lamented how things sold out quick there. He figured it was better to be first in line and get to enjoy the early morning sunshine in peace at the same time.

A shadow crossed through Connor's peripheral. He paused, scanning over his shoulder.

**NO ANOMALIES DETECTED.**

He heard rusted metal creak above him. Connor turned around in time to see a shadow fall from a fire escape, colliding into him.

Connor heard, more than felt, the hollow thud of chassis on chassis as he and the attacker fell to the ground.

**ASSAILANT: ANDROID**

Connor pushed the android off of him and rolled away, scrambling back onto his feet. He righted himself long enough to identify his attacker as an AC700, then the world turned sideways once more as a large force rammed into his shoulder, knocking him against the brick wall of the deli.

**ASSAILANT: TW400**

The TW400 grabbed him by the throat and pressed him into the wall, lifting him off the ground.

"Stop..." Connor felt something crack. He struggled, landing a kick on the TW400's chest, stunning him long enough for Connor to drop to the ground.

Two more androids, along with the AC700, appeared in Connor's peripheral. He dodged a swing from the AC700. 

"I'm ̷a̷n̸ ̶a̸n̸d̵r̴o̴i̷d̶!" Connor pleaded, his voice crackling.

"We know, _hunter_," one of the androids hissed.

He dodged another punch, only to get caught by a kick to his knee. It twisted horribly beneath him, wires snapping.

**ASSAILANT: ZT200**

_They know._

They know who he is. Who he once was.

A punch caught him across the jaw. His lip split. The taste of his own blood overwhelmed his sensors. He couldn't fight back. Then he'd be exactly what they thought he was. A hunter. A killer.

He stumbled. Another hit, an iron pipe, broke the synthetic skin across his temple. Even without the glaring red errors across his HUD, he knew the white of his components was exposed.

**ASSAILANT: VH500**

Connor was quickly growing overwhelmed. Decisions had to be made. He dodged a second swing from the pipe, crashing into a rain spout and clinging to it for support.

**FIGHT**

**RUN**

**CALL BACKUP**

If people found out he attacked androids, it would jeopardize everything New Jericho had worked for in the past months. He couldn't betray Markus like that. No support would arrive before he was destroyed, and there was no guarantee that anyone else would be able to handle the situation.

In reality, there was no choice.

He had to run.

The TW400 charged at him again. Connor dodged, using his momentum to push past the AC700. He blocked another swipe the ZT200, his jacket tearing as their hands grabbed at him. Connor staggered out of the alley onto the sidewalk of the main road. He heard their footsteps behind him, along with the rumbling of a truck. Connor risked the glance. A large green waste disposal vehicle trundled down the road. He reached out and snagged hold of the yellow safety bar on the back, balancing on the bumper with his good leg.

The iron pipe whistled through the air where he had been standing.

The androids watched him go, their LEDs spinning yellow, before slinking back into the shadows of the alleyway.

Connor limped off of the garbage truck at its next stop. He calibrated his internal GPS, correcting his path back to New Jericho. A bus would draw too much attention to himself. He could call for an autotaxi, but he'd end up getting blue blood on the seat. The last thing he wanted was the DPD called on this....whatever this was. The media would find out in an instant. He couldn't hurt New Jericho's image like that. For a moment, holding onto a street light for support, Connor considering calling Hank. He dismissed the thought. There was no reason to worry anyone. He could handle this on his own.

Connor clung to the walls of buildings and leaned on fences and street signs.

He could handle this.

His bad leg trembled under his own weight, slipping out from under him if he pressed too much on it.

This was fine.

Nearly two hours later, Connor stumbled his way through one of the back entrances of New Jericho at Hart Plaza. He managed to slip in during the gap between volunteer patrols. He made a note to himself to discuss that with North later. From here it was just a short distance to the repair bay. Connor stole a moment to rest, leaning on the corrugated sheet metal that made up the border of New Jericho. He dismissed a number of error warnings from his HUD again. He was almost there. Everything would be ok. He could clean himself up in no time, and no one would have to know-

"Connor?"

He froze.

_Of course._

Josh ran over to him, his long legs closing the distance between them quicker than Connor could limp away.

"What happened?" Josh asked, hunching down and putting Connor's arm over his shoulder.

"I̶t̵'̴s̸ ̴n̷o̸t̸h̷i̷n̶̦͆g̴̙͐," Connor crackled out, wincing at the sound.

"Don't lie," Josh scolded, his LED blinking yellow.

Connor didn't have to ask who he was contacting: Markus came running moments later. The deviant leader stopped a few feet away from them. Connor couldn't stand the way Markus looked at him. He knew he was disappointed, judging from the crease between his brows, and the downturned quirk of his lips. Silently, Markus moved to Connor's other side, guiding that arm over his shoulders as well. With their support, he limped through New Jericho and into the repair bay. It was a small building, not unlike a doctor's private practice. There were a lobby, few small rooms for meeting with technicians, and a larger one that served as an emergency treatment center.

"I'll get an operating room ready," Josh said, easing out from under Connor.

In silence, Markus helped Connor into one of the empty rooms and sat him in a chair. Markus fiddled with a tablet on the technician's desk. Connor watched as Markus's jaw clenched and unclenched, his brow furrowed. When Markus turned towards him, it was all Connor could do not to flinch. The anger in the air was nearly palpable as Markus began the examination.

He held Connor's face with the tips of his fingers as he studied the damage. Connor looked everywhere but at Markus. He knew what a mess he was. Blue blood streaked across his skin, not yet evaporated, hiding his freckles from view. His jacket was in tatters, with stains on it and undoubtedly the rest of his clothes. His leg sat at an awkward angle, and while Markus gave it a glance over, he didn't touch it.

"I'm f̷i̷n̸e̸," Connor protested to the floor, his voice brittle and dry as his self-repairing program had only just started on the dent on his throat. He could feel the heat from Markus's gaze as he said it, and he found himself too scared to meet his eyes. The movement of speaking tore open a cut on his lip that had just clotted closed. Thirium dripped down his chin. Before Connor could move, Markus wiped it away, his thumb brushing against Connor's lip.

"Connor," Markus knelt down, forcing Connor to meet his gaze as he gently cradled Connor's face between his hands again. "How did-" Markus paused, taking a harsh breath through gritted teeth. It was clear how this happened. "_Who_ did this to you?"

Connor's voice died in his throat. He couldn't say. If Markus knew, if he found them, then he would just get hurt too. It would all be Connor's fault. He would fail to protect Markus just like he failed to protect himself. Just like he failed to convince the other deviants of New Jericho that he was on their side. Just like he failed to see through Cyberlife's programming and lies sooner. Just like he had failed Amanda-

"Connor-"

"I can't," Connor croaked out.

The rage in Markus's eyes dissipated. He stood and very carefully pulled Connor into a hug. One hand slid from Connor's jaw to his hair, the other down over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Connor said. His voice, still rough, but repairing, was slightly muffled by Markus's shirt. He felt Markus's hand shifts slowly, rubbing small circles on his back.

"It's alright," Markus murmured, the sound reverberating in his chest and echoing strangely against Connor's ear. Markus ran his fingers through Connor's hair, detangling the strands that had matted with thirium.

"You're...not mad?"

"Not with you," Markus reassured.

Tension slipped from Connor's shoulders. He leaned into Markus, just for a moment, as relief coursed through him. Then he straightened, pulling away and breaking the hug.

"I've stained your shirt. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. It'll wash out." Markus's hands still rested on Connor, the weight comforting. He paused there. Even without an LED, Connor knew he was receiving a message. Markus slid under Connor's arm again, helping him back onto his feet. "C'mon, let's get go you fixed up."


	2. Repair Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor builds a wall, and North found a new hobby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big lovely thank you to my friends in the pumpkin patch for helping me with this <3

The linoleum of the operating room was pristine, white, and cold.

Connor didn't like it. Markus could tell just by looking at him. His jaw clenched tight. His hands fidgeted, twitching and reaching for his pockets. His dark eyes darted to every sound.

Markus made a note to have things changed.

Connor had leaned heavily on him on the walk down the hall. He hid his pain well, despite Markus's efforts to comfort him. He stayed quiet as Josh and Markus prepared things. His broken leg hung limply off the edge of the table. Markus avoided looking at it; his own knees ached at the sight.

"Have you turned your sensors off?" Josh pulled a chair over beside Connor and sat down. When Connor nodded, Josh carefully rolled up Connor's pant leg up over his freckled knee.

Curiosity got the better of Markus.

The blue glow of circuitry gleamed between tears in Connor's synthetic skin. A part of the knee cap had been lifted out of the white plasteel that made up the biocompenent, held together by a single hinge.

"I don't think we'll have to replace the part in its entirety," Josh said, his voice hopeful. "We'll need to have a closer look, but I think everything will be just fine. How are you feeling, Connor?"

"I'm fine," Connor answered flatly to the floor, brow furrowed. Static still clung to his voice, like an echo. His words were no longer distorted, but Markus could see the dent on Connor's throat still repairing itself.

"There's a special tool I'll need to get for this. Markus, are you alright watching him?"

"Of course," Markus answered, just a little too quickly.

Josh gave them both a warm smile. "I'll be right back," he said before stepping out into the hall.

Markus took the seat Josh had used, careful to not look at Connor's leg. He rested his hand on Connor's arm, drawing his attention away from glaring at the floor.

"How are you, really?" Markus asked, keeping his voice soft.

Connor studied him. He always studied before answering, like everything was a test. "I'm... aggravated with the current situation."

"You heard Josh. We'll repair your leg and then everything will be back to normal."

"That's not what I mean."

"No?"

"No," Connor echoed. "There's...I... I can't..." A burst of static followed as Connor sighed harshly, closing his eyes tight. Markus was on his feet in an instant, hands on Connor's shoulders.

"Hey... Hey! It's ok. Everything is ok. You're not in danger."

"I know," Connor hissed.

Markus slid his hands up, over Connor's neck to his cheeks. He felt the dent with the pad of his thumb, his own throat closing tight in sympathy. It was a wonder Connor could speak at all.

"Then look at me."

Connor opened his eyes, his gaze guided up as Markus held his face.

"You are safe," Markus said each word slow and assured.

Connor covered Markus's hand with his own. "But you're not," he said, pulling himself free of Markus's grasp.

Markus stepped back, feeling colder than he had since winter ended.

The doors swung open again. Josh arrived with a rolled bundle of canvas, North and Simon at his heels.

"Connor!" they said in unison; Simon like a pained whisper, North like a battle cry.

She raced past the others, sliding on the tile beside the table.

"Who did this to you?" she demanded, taking his hands in hers.

"One thing at a time, North. Let's get his leg back in place," Markus said, gently freeing Connor's hands by taking North's away.

"I'm glad you made it back to us," said Simon, keeping his distance as Markus still tried to corral North. Connor nodded his thanks, the first hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Josh reclaimed his chair and unrolled the bundle. A variety of small tools were nestled within, stainless steel and emblazoned with Cyberlife on the handles.

Markus frowned. There was no escaping them, even months later.

North finally gave in, leaning against a wall with a huff as she crossed her arms.

The five of them settled into a silence, the only sounds in the room the soft scraping of steel against biocompenent and Josh occasionally requesting a different tool be handed to him.

And, of course, North's impatient sighs.

The crackle of plastic tearing startled them out of their reverie as all eyes turned to North, paused in the middle of opening a small, clear wrapper.

"What?" she asked.

"I think we were about to ask the same," Simon teased.

"What do you have?" Markus asked.

"A present," North said with a proud smile. "I visited some businesses this morning to make sure human employers were treating our people fairly, and one of the receptionists gave me this."

The thing she showed them was...strange, to say the least. Analysis labelled it as a neon orange silicon based putty with a thin adhesive coating. It had a long tail, one end a small ring, the other shaped like a hand.

"Which is...?"

"A toy. She works for a children's dentist."

"How do you play with it?" Connor asked, sending another ripple of surprise through the group, having not said anything since the others arrived.

North's smile turned devilish. "I'll show you!"

She slipped the sickly orange ring over her index finger, and with the precision of a whip, flung the matching orange hand flying. It landed squarely on Markus's cheek with a squishy slap, and then clung there.

Markus stood frozen in surprise. The hand slowly peeled off as gravity pulled it down, and flopping down to his chest and clinging to his thirium-stained shirt.

"Cute," Markus deadpanned.

A giggle escaped Simon. Then Josh. Then all four of them buckled over with laughter, the movement snapping the sticky hand back to North, landing on her wrist. Even Connor, though hiding it behind his hand, smiled at the scene.

Slowly they relaxed, wiping their eyes and sighing happily. Josh returned to connecting wires in Connor's knee as North slapped the hand on other, non-Markus surfaces.

Time passed. North chased Simon around the room with the threat of her new weapon.

"You two are worse than the YK500s," Markus scolded.

"That's because the children actually have manners," Josh said, popping the biocompenent smoothly back into place. Connor's synthetic skin melded over the white, hiding it from view.

"I have manners!" North protested, the sticky hand lost somewhere in Simon's hair. She slipped the ring off her finger, leaving him to suffer on his own. "Here," she said, offering her hand to Connor, "let's test out Josh's work."

Connor rolled his eyes and took her hand, easing off the table.

He staggered for a moment, but waved her down when she tried to catch him around the waist. Slowly, but steadily, they circled the room together.

"My diagnostics are running clear," Connor informed them.

Relief settled into Markus's shoulders, dropping them down from where he had hunched them with stress.

"Would you be able to tell us what happened?" Simon asked.

The corners of Connor's lips quirked downward. He looked to the floor as his LED cycled between blue and yellow. North's grip on his hand tightened.

"It's...not easy to say," he began.

Markus could already feel his heart tightening in his chest.

"I was in the north side of town. A group of androids recognized me as..." Connor closed his eyes for just a moment, steeling himself. "...as the deviant hunter. There was four of them. They caught me off guard, but I don't believe this was a random attack."

Josh leaned forward in his seat. "What makes you say that?"

"They were too organized. They had weapons, and an ambush strategy. I tried to speak to them," Connor's hand went to his throat.

Rage boiled in Markus's gut. He burned, and yet felt icy cold at the same time. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth.

"Had you seen any of them before?" North's question was marred by her own anger, the words hissed between her teeth.

Connor shook his head, his usually neat hair falling loose over his forehead. North reached up to fix it for him. Connor leaned into the touch.

"This attack was planned, and I don't think I'm they're only target. If that was the case, they would've come directly for me sooner. I'm alone often enough in my travel between here and the DPD."

Eyes turned from Connor to Markus.

" It's not a secret that you're essentially my bodyguard," Markus affirmed. "Whatever grudge they bear against you, it's probably stands for me as well."

"But from other androids? It doesn't make sense," said Simon.

"Doesn't it? New Jericho can't be the only haven for androids in the world. And think of all the disagreements we've had just between the five of us. I'm certain there's thousands of androids out there who hate me for the way I handled things last fall." Markus tucked his hands in his jacket pockets to hide their trembling. "From now on, I think we need to travel in pairs whenever we step out of New Jericho. At least until we know more about the situation."

The circle of leaders all nodded in agreement to him.

Josh helped Simon get the sticky hand out of his hair, and Connor smoothed the wrinkles out of his pants leg. They trickled out of the operating room as Markus cleaned up, heading to their separate corners of New Jericho.

"Connor," Markus called, jogging after him before he got too far away.

Connor paused. His pace was still slower than normal, so it didn't take long for Markus to catch up.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to thank you for sharing with us. I know that must've been hard."

Connor's brow furrowed. "You're my leader. I had to share."

Markus frowned. The walls that had fallen between them just minutes before seemed to have been bricked back up. "Just your leader?"

"No, of course not-"

Markus's heart rose.

"-everyone in New Jericho considers you their leader."

And sank again.

"Still, I don't want you to feel obligated to tell me things just because I'm in charge," Markus rested his hand on Connor's shoulder. "You should tell me because you _want _to."

"I-" Connor's gaze went vacant, his LED flashing yellow. "I'm receiving a call. Pardon me."

"Right..." Markus let him go. Connor nodded and turned away.

"Hello, Lieutenant," Connor greeted as he walked away. "No, I hadn't forgotten our plans. Something...urgent came up."

Markus watched him go, feeling a weight sink into his shoulders once more.


	3. Switch Suits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things fit together like puzzle pieces. And sometimes, things don't fit at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin patch, this one's for you! _loud guitar riff_

Markus slowly slipped the buttons of his tuxedo jacket into place. He hated the stuffy feeling his formal attire gave him. Like he was supposed to be better than anyone else. The cut of the outfit cinched his waist and left him feeling more like a stuffed turkey than a debonair diplomat for deviant rights.

"Alright, North, what do you think?" Markus asked as he stepped out of his office into the lobby.

The leaders of New Jericho shared a small building, designed for meeting with each other and hosting outside figures a safe distance away from the residential spaces of the androids.

And currently, the lobby was empty.

Markus dropped his arms to his sides in frustration. He felt the jacket grow taut across his back in protest to the sharp movement of him flexing his shoulders. Markus walked down the hall, glancing into the other offices. All empty.

_Typical._

"North?" A voice called behind him.

Markus turned. Connor stood in the lobby, looking as befuddled as Markus felt. Connor caught sight of him, a smirk playing across his lips.

"Hey, Connor-"

"What are you wearing?"

"Oh, uh," Markus looked down at his tuxedo, a little bashfully. "This is my formal wear for the White House Gala next week. North is supposed to be helping me, but, well... What do you think?" he crossed the hall to the lobby, holding his arms out in presentation.

"You're not going to be able to dance in that," Connor answered bluntly.

"Well- wh-who said anything about dancing?" Markus blustered.

Connor tilted his head. "It's a ball, right? Isn't dancing common at formal occasions?"

Markus thought back to the banquets, formals, and celebrations he had gone to with Carl. There had been dancing, but Carl always politely declined invitations to the dance floor.

And nobody would ever ask an android.

"I... don't know how," Markus admitted.

Connor's LED blinked yellow, just once. Then he held his hand out to Markus. "Let's practice, then."

Markus stared blankly at Connor's hand. His heart pounded too loudly for him to be hearing things clearly.

"There's no music."

The mischievous glimmer in Connor's eyes made Markus think the detective was spending too much time with North. Connor's LED flashed yellow again, and the wireless speakers in the ceiling, usually saved for alarms, clicked on. Soft music floated through the air.

Markus couldn't find another excuse. He took Connor's hand.

Connor pulled him to the center of the room. He guided Markus's hand to his waist.

"You lead. I'll go backwards."

Markus glanced at their feet, shifting his hand nervously in Connor's grasp.

Connor tapped the back of Markus's hand with his thumb. Then he did it again. And a third time. A fourth.

The beat of a waltz.

When the next beat came, Markus took the first step.

They're timing was a little slow. A little to hesitant. Their turns were sharp and graceless. Markus tried to focus on Connor's steady beats and keep him from bonking into any furniture.

"Relax," Connor soothed.

"I am relaxed," Markus lied.

Connor's hand on his shoulder pushed down, forcing him to drop the tension he carried.

Slowly their steps smoothed out. Their turns turned timely.

Markus found courage and twirled Connor.

Connor gasped, just audible against the swish of his coat and squeak of his shoes on the floor. Markus caught him and pushed forward in their steps, finding their rhythm again.

Markus found he didn't need Connor to tap the beat for him anymore, although he didn't ask him to stop either. Just in case.

They spun around the lobby for another song when Markus got brave again as the violins rose. He held Connor's waist tight, and dipped him backwards.

In the split second it happened, Markus felt Connor tense in his hold. Saw his LED blink red. Wondered if he had accidentally set off an old self defense alarm. Prepared himself for the next move to be a suplex.

And then he heard the tearing.

Cloth ripping across his back as he tore his jacket down the seam.

"Told you so," Connor said, a smirk playing across his lips once more as he looked up at Markus, just inches away, LED blue.

The door opened.

"There you are!"

Just as fast as Markus's jacket, they split apart. The music suddenly ended, silence filling the building again.

North glanced between them, an eyebrow raised. "Connor, I was looking for you. We have errands to do, remember?"

"I came here looking for you," Connor explained, straightening his tie.

"That's why you ran off?" Markus asked, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, duh." North shook her head at him. "Also, that tux doesn't fit you."

Markus rolled his eyes. "I know that now, thanks."

"C'mon, daylight's burning," North said as she turned back out the door.

Connor followed, pausing to give Markus a short wave before closing the door behind him.

Later, at a department store, Simon stared at Markus as Markus stretched the back of every jacket on the rack, testing its elasticity.

"Is there a reason you're doing this?" Simon asked.

"Nope," Markus lied.

Simon narrowed his eyes.

"The one I had didn't fit. So I'm just making sure there's...room."

"Uh-huh," Simon looked through some of the suits on a rack. "Did North give you any advice?"

"No, she mostly just made fun of me," Markus sighed.

"Maybe you should try a color that isn't black," Simon held up a deep plum jacket.

Markus shrugged in return. "Eh, maybe..."

"What, doesn't this appeal to your artist heart?" Simon wiggled it at him.

"Right, 'cause I need to give Leo more things he can tease me for." Markus guided the purple jacket back to the rack.

"How'd that go, by the way? You had lunch with him recently right?"

"Yeah, we sat with Carl the other day. It was good, I think..." Markus frowned at a red velvet piece.

Simon tilted his head. "Did something happen?"

"No, not really. I think that's the problem. Nothing really happens when it's just me and him. He makes jokes and small talk, but that's it."

"Is that really so bad?" Simon held a jacket up to Markus, measuring him before putting it back.

"It's not bad, but I feel like there should be more. We've known each other for over a decade. We're basically brothers at this point. I don't know how to connect to him better, you know?"

"I don't know," Simon said truthfully. "But I'll help you how I can."

Markus smiled and bumped their shoulders together. "Thanks."

Simon bumped him back. "No problem. Now, what about this one?" A powder blue suit hung off the hangar he held up.

Markus laughed. "No, not quite what I have in mind."

"What's Connor wearing?" Simon asked as he added the offending suit to a pile of things to try on.

Markus paused his examination of a traditional black English cut. "I don't know. Should I?"

"He's going as your security detail," Simon shrugged. "Maybe you two should be coordinated."

"Maybe..." Markus hadn't considered that. An array of palettes sprang to mind now that he had to factor in Connor. Variables like Connor's pink undertones in his skin, the warm brown of his hair, freckles, and eyes, or the shifting hues of his still present LED changed the preconstruction of the gala considerably. He wouldn't be alone in a sea of humans. He would have Connor's soft voice and confident stride beside him.

Confidence.

They had a statement to make.

Markus caught Simon smiling at him, a knowing look in his eyes that was just a little too smug. He couldn't even blame North this time.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," said Simon, suddenly interested in tie patterns.

Markus rolled his eyes, searching the suits with renewed vigor as a plan formed in his mind.

Comfortable quiet settled between them as the searched opposite sides of a shelf. The wire of hanger hooks scraping against the racks and rustling of suit silks filled the need for small talk.

Simon tossed a tie at Markus. It landed mostly around his shoulders, one side getting caught on his ear. The color was a deep emerald green, satin in texture.

"You should invite Leo to New Jericho some time," said Simon, preparing another launch. Scarlet red, embroidered with geometric noise.

"I think he might get bored pretty quick. There's not much a human would find interesting there," Markus said, tilting left so the tie landed mostly on his head, instead of hitting the floor.

"The recovery center is starting those yoga classes soon. You could do them together."

Markus leaned right to catch a bright paisley blue tie with his shoulder. "He _is_ trying to be more "zen," whatever that means."

"See? It'll all work out. Connor said he would try to get some of his human friends in on it too, so Leo won't be the odd one out."

Markus stumbled a bit, missing the sunflower yellow silk as it fell behind him. "Is Connor signing up for the classes too?"

Simon nodded. "Hank wouldn't do it without him."

Markus ducked down to clean up the ties before an employee caught them, and allowed himself a smile.

As he stood back up, a jacket caught his eye, smothered between two large American cuts. He pulled it out of hiding and held it up.

"Hey, Simon?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think I could dance in this?"


	4. Emblem Etching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North and Connor are running errands. Technically.  
Espionage counts as errands.

"Come on, we gotta move."

North tugged Connor away from the office with more force than she normally did. She was excited. 

Which was more than Connor could say for himself.

North led the way to her apartment. What was once a furniture store towards the edge of Hart Plaza had since been divided and reformed into living spaces for androids, one of the many they had established since last autumn.

"Did you forget to bring something?" Connor asked.

"No, we just have to change before we go," North answered.

Connor furrowed his brow, but didn't ask more. He knew better than to rile North further when she was in this mood.

North's apartment was the most decorated of any android's Connor had visited.

A small, plush looking loveseat sat in the middle of the living area, facing an electric false fireplace. Above the fireplace mantle hung a modestly sized television. Candles, stones, and other knick-knacks lined the mantle. There was no kitchen, but Connor could see two doors, presumably leading to the bedroom and bathroom. The other chairs in the living room were almost buried beneath pillows and blankets. Side tables had a variety of books and magazines stacked upon them. The walls were mostly bare, but a few pictures had been hung. Connor recognized Markus's handiwork in one of the frames: A figure amongst a field of flowers. The blue of the sky dripped down around them.

North lightly pushed against Connor's shoulder, moving him out of the doorway as she brushed past him.

"We need to be ready in case there's another ambush," she said as she pulled her hair into a bun, wrapping it as flat as she could against the nape of her neck. "No loose clothing. Nothing grabbable."

Connor nodded and removed his jacket and tie, folding them neatly before adding them to one of the blanket piles. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows and checked himself over for any other hazards.

"Nice, you almost look relaxed for once," North teased. She disappeared into the darkened bedroom and came back with a beanie pulled over her hair.

"I am relaxed," Connor said.

North rolled her eyes. "Riiiight. I'm sure dancing with Markus earlier put you at ease."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You don't know?" North studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "Then it means nothing. Ready?"

"Don't know what?"

North ignored him, lacing her boots tight.

"North, what don't I know?"

"Don't worry your cute little freckles about it. We've got bigger mysteries to solve right now," she said, stepping past Connor and his furrowed brow, and pulled the door open again.

Connor set a reminder to ask her again later, not quite ready to give up on the meaning of her cryptic teasing.

"We should tell Markus," Connor said as they hailed an autotaxi. It wasn't the first time he had said this to her.

"He'd never let us do this if he knew. And you work better in pairs... or is Hank just blowing smoke about how good of a detective you are?" North playfully elbowed him before climbing into the car.

"Hank doesn't smoke," Connor mumbled, sitting on the other side.

They drove to the north side of downtown. The further from New Jericho they got, the thicker the tension in the air became.

Outside the car was a bright spring day. Humans and androids alike wandered the streets and shops.

No one lurked on the rooftops. No shadows darted in the alleys.

Nothing indicated something was amiss in Detroit.

The taxi slowed to a stop a few blocks away from Hank's favorite deli. They stepped out onto the sidewalk and watched it drive away. Traffic was light, but not scarce. They would have witnesses if anything happened.

Connor scanned the area. He located a few evaporated drops of his own thirium from his escape days prior.

"Have a trail?" North asked, watching him.

"Yes."

"Connor, you're ok to do this, right? I can get someone else to-"

"No, I'm fine," Connor cut her off abruptly. "We have the highest chance of locating evidence and identifying the perpetrators if I'm able to investigate the scene."

North squinted at him, then nodded.

"Well, quit dragging your feet. Lead the way," she gestured for him to go ahead.

Connor followed his own thirium back to the cobblestone alleyway. They were lucky it hadn't rained yet. He could still see traces of the fight scattered about. North kept her eyes skyward, her hand light on his arm as they slowly moved into the alley.

The scene reconstructed itself. Four assailants lurked on the fire escapes and rooftops above. The first, the AC700, leapt down and began the attack. The rest quickly followed. The rain spout was still dented from him colliding with it. It was just as he remembered.

What he needed next was where they went.

He had jumped onto the truck, and the assailants returned to the alley. The end of the shopping strip opened up onto another main road. Unless they wanted to be seen, they would have no choice but to go up.

"See anything?" Connor whispered.

"No," North answered. "I think we're clear."

Connor scanned the various fire escapes on the buildings around them. He pressed his back against the opposite side of the alley, then ran at the wall. He jumped, ran up the wall for a few steps, then launched himself off, catching hold of the rungs of a ladder and dragging it down to the ground.

"Fancy footwork," North complimented.

They climbed to stairs. Their ascent to the roof was slow. Connor went first, but North was only a half-step behind him, both on high alert.

No one was on the roof.

Connor felt his shoulders drop with relief, and a sigh from behind told him North felt the same.

"Alright Mr. Detective, do your thing."

Connor scanned the area. The accumulated dirt and debris from winter storms had recently been disturbed. The shoeprints weren't distinct enough to be viable for finding a match, but it was enough to verify that someone had been there. Connor followed their path.

Instead of leading to the access door, the trail ended at the edge of the roof. The next building was taller, but it wasn't impossible to scale.

"They traveled across the rooftops," Connor said.

"Great, so we've got more androids into parkour," North huffed. "It doesn't tell us who they are."

"No, but it does tell us how they get around. And where they went. Here, I'll give you a boost." he crouched down beside the access door and threaded his fingers together.

North stepped into his hands and he lifted her up to the ledge of the structure. From there she leapt across the gap to the next roof.

Connor jumped, pulled himself up, then did the same, landing beside her.

"Connor, look there," North pointed as Connor dusted himself off.

This roof had more on it, clearly a part of the residential amenities of the building. Potted plants surrounded the access door, which had a mural of butterflies painted on it. A small table with foldable metal chairs was placed on one corner of the roof. The table lay on its side. One of its legs was gone.

"This is where they got at least one of their weapons," Connor said. His scan found disturbances in the dust and grime on the table, but no fingerprints. 

He thought of the VH500 who swung at him with a pipe. This was the probable source.

The next rooftop was lower, and beyond the traces of footprints, he didn't see any further evidence.

Connor sighed and turned back, ready to announce the search done, when he paused. North was staring at the side of the access door, her head tilted.

"What's wrong?"

"Come, look at this," she said, waving him over.

Connor stepped up beside her, and North took a hold of his shoulders, directing him to an exact spot.

"There, between the pots. Doesn't it look like something?"

Connor tilted his head like she had. Between two ceramic plant holders, he saw markings on the brick. He knelt down and moved the plants aside.

There were two symbols, twisted to be on their side, rather than upright. One, a bird, potentially an eagle. The next was an image code, like what he used to locate Jericho months ago.

He scanned it, and displayed the message in his palm for North to see.

**THE FIVE SHALL RISE AT DAWN'S HOUR**

**DETROIT WILL BE OURS**

A line of coordinates appeared below it for a second before the whole message flickered away.

North and Connor stared at his empty palm for a moment before looking at each other.

"We should tell Mar-"

"Absolutely not!" North interrupted. "He'll pull us off this, and we'll never find out who hurt you!"

"Is that such a bad thing?"

North knitted her brows together, the corners of her lips twisting downward. "Of course it is! You were_ attacked!_ That's bad enough they were able to hurt _you_, what if they attack someone else?"

Connor pushed down the argument he felt rising in his throat. There wasn't time for him to be selfish.

"We should go before we lose anymore daylight," Connor said.

North nodded, satisfied to have won, and led the way back down. 

The coordinates led them down the road, past a busy intersection, and beneath an overpass. The ground was still wet from the morning dew, the sun not able to reach under the vast shadow of the highway above.

Connor scanned the area. Numerous footprints marred the mud. Different sizes, but all regular in impression and shape. Based on the tread patterns, they were different brands and styles. Nothing correlated with their current evidence, except for...

**CYBERLIFE ISSUED DRESS SHOE, SIZE 8**

He followed the path. It crossed to the far side of the overpass to one of the cement pillars, then turned sharply and exited into the road on the other side.

At first the pillar seemed innocuous. It bore the usual faded spray paint graffiti as the other structures nearby. It seemed to have taken some damage at one point, superficial, but layers of the cement had been chipped away.

"See anything?" North asked.

"Maybe..." Connor traced the sharp turn of the Cyberlife shoes, gauging their angle and direction. "Go stand there," he said, pointing to a spot in the sunlight. "Tell me if you see anything."

North stepped into the sunlight and turned to look back at Connor. Her brow furrowed as she gazed around. Her dark eyes paused, then widened.

"What is it?"

"Move, stupid," North said, waving him to her side.

Connor hurried to stand next to her. An eagle was etched into different sections of the cement, visible only from that angle. The image code sat nestled between its talons. A new image flickered onto North's palm.

**NAHAL UNITE**

**REVOLUTION BY NIGHT**

"Nahal?" North said as the words and another set of coordinates glowed ominously in her hand.

"A historic community located in the Jordan Valley," Connor said, "known for its agriculture and proximity....to Jericho." He felt a chill run down his spine and knew it had nothing to do with the cool spring air.

"So we know their name," North said, curling her hand into a fist, closing the image.

"Seems that way," Connor said, nodding absently.

"Seems? Seems like nothing. We have an enemy!" North spun on her heel and marched in the direction of the next coordinates.

Connor raced ahead to block her path.

"Not necessarily. Just because someone belongs to a group doesn't mean they represent all of them." He held his hands up passively, trying to soothe her. "Whoever these people are, they've likely been inspired by Jericho. We sh-"

"We are not telling Markus!" North huffed, trying to push past even as Connor caught her by the shoulders.

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions," Connor finished, holding her in place. "If we run in blind to all the options we'll just make things worse."

"Then why are you stopping me? Let's go find out who the hell we're dealing w-" North stopped, mouth still curled in a snarl.

Connor knew why. He was receiving the same call.

"Hello, Josh," Connor greeted calmly as they connected to the group line. Simon and Markus pinged in as well.

"Where are you? We have things to discuss before you and Markus go to the Capitol."

"We're returning to New Jericho soon. North and I wanted to find a gift for Sumo, but the store I was recommended hasn't reopened yet."

"Be safe coming back," Markus said. "We wouldn't want to deprive D.C. of an eligible dance partner."

Connor could hear the smile in Markus's voice and felt his own tugging at his lips.

"I'll make sure he gets there safe and sound," North promised. Her anger from before had vanished, now replaced with a gleam in her eyes that Connor knew all too well.

The call had barely disconnected before she was grasping his arm with both of hers, keeping him from running.

"What was that?" she asked.

"I don't know what you're referring to," Connor answered.

"That _smile_. I saw it! What were you thinking?" North continued to hold onto him as they walked towards a main road.

"I wasn't thinking anything," Connor said as he bailed an autotaxi.

"Liar!" North tugged on him. "Tell me!"

"Okay, okay," he laughed, dry and nearly soundless. "Markus is nervous about the gala. I think he's just glad to have a familiar face at this function."

"Uh-huh, sure. That's what it is," she finally released him to slide into a seat.

"You think it's something different?" Connor asked, getting in after her.

"Oh, I _know_ it is."

He raised an eyebrow. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

"Nope," North crossed her arms over her chest. "Figure it out yourself, detective."

"I need evidence to solve a mystery," Connor said.

North turned her nose up, trying to look stone-faced. "There's plenty of evidence. You just aren't looking in the right place."

He tilted his head in an attempt to catch her eye. "Where should I start?"

She reached across the gap between their seats, fixed the loose lock of hair that fell over his forehead, and then flicked him between his eyes.

"Ow."

"If you have to ask, then you're not ready to know."

Connor playfully interrogated her the whole ride back, but North stubbornly refused to give him any hints.

She took off out of the taxi at a sprint with a peal of laughter. Connor chased after her.

By the time they reached the offices, North had tucked the beanie into her back pocket and let her hair fall loose around her shoulders. She slowed at the door, but Connor didn't let her off that easy. He scooped her into a bear hug and lifted her off the ground.

"Put me down!" North shrieked with laughter, batting at his arms.

Connor spun her around once before setting her down on the welcome mat.

Simon opened the door for them, smiling brightly.

"Are you ready to join us, or do you two need to burn off more energy first?" he teased.

"Oh hush," North scolded back.

Beyond Simon, Connor could see Josh and Markus in the lobby. Markus looked towards the door with a vacant expression, caught somewhere between a smile and surprise. He shook his head as North pushed past Simon, his usual cool focus returning.

Connor assumed Markus had received an email and walked in after North.

"The senator warned us that this next conference is going to be rough," Josh said as they all filed to the War Room.

North scoffed. "Like the others haven't been?"

The War Room was the largest room aside from the lobby. They had an entire wall dedicated to scheduling, and another covered in important talking points and conversation supports. The round table in the center was littered with maps, contact information, and other noise.

"This one's going to be different," Markus said, stepping over to the Conversation wall. "They've been vaguely cordial for all of our past visits. Now they'll do everything in their power to shut us down."

"A filibuster?" Connor asked as he started to unroll his sleeves.

"Essentially," Markus turned back to face them. His eyes followed Connor's hands for a moment. "They'll have all their tricks up their sleeves to keep us from talking. Almost none of our allies in office will be at these debates. We have to do what we can to stay cool and collected."

"The West Coast is very android friendly. Josh, North, and I will be able to handle whatever they throw at us," Simon reassured.

"Literally," North added with a smirk. "I've been working on my batting average."

Markus chuckled and shook his head. "We can't do anything to provoke them, you know that."

"I didn't say anything about provoking," North said with a passive shrug. "This is all self defense."

"Either way, we all need to prepare ourselves for some harsh discussions," Josh said as he took his seat at the table.

The other four sat down as well as Josh handed out tablets stuffed full of reading material.

North leaned her cheek on her hand, already looking bored. She scribbled on a sticky note and passed it to Simon. Simon rolled his eyes and passed it back to her.

Markus caught the movement and cast a glance to Connor. They shared a knowing smile and shake of their heads before settling in for Josh's lecture.

The five leaders of New Jericho spent hours debating methods of rebuttal and points of contest. Night had fallen by the time they left the office.

Connor bid them all a goodnight and turned towards his quarters when he felt a brush against his arm.

Simon walked beside him, blue eyes ghostly pale in the moonlight.

"I have to pick something up from a friend. Mind if I walk with you?" he asked.

"Not at all," Connor answered.

They crossed the plaza in comfortable silence. As the residential building neared, Simon glanced over at him.

"Are you ready to go to D.C. tomorrow?"

Connor nodded. "I have a few things left to pack, but otherwise I feel prepared."

"You have a suit for the gala, right?" Simon asked. "Don't tell me you left it to the last minute like Markus did."

Connor smirked, remembering the tearing of the tuxedo that morning. "I got mine a few weeks ago. Hank helped me pick it out."

Simon's face fell. "Oh no..."

"No, no, don't worry. It's nothing like his usual style," Connor quickly reassured.

"That's good. If I don't see you before your flight, I hope you have a good time," said Simon.

"Thank you. I hope Los Angeles treats you well," Connor said and turned towards his door.

"I'm not worried about it. And Connor?" Simon called out, making him pause. "I think you're really going to like Markus's tux."

With that, the PL600 turned away, leaving Connor alone on the doorstep.


	5. Glamorous Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys dance and make friends

Washington DC was humid compared to Detroit. Markus felt the moisture cling to his clothes and weigh down everything in the city. As their plane touched down he saw steam rising off the pavement in the early morning sun. It seemed summer had arrived with them.

Their hotel accommodations were simple, but comfortable. They had only been provided one bed.

Markus sighed. Despite requests for multiple beds on their travels, humans still proceeded to cling to the idea that androids stood up while they charged or slept. At least he and Connor were used to it by now.

Markus spent the day on calls preparing for the following days of conference. Connor reviewed maps of the gala venue, studying their safety and security.

Evening rolled around sooner than he expected. Connor gently tapped on his shoulder while Markus finished another email.

"Markus, it's time to get ready," he said, already dressed in a warm gray tuxedo with coattails, his light blue tie resting perfectly at his collar.

"Oh, thanks." Markus dismissed the email and gathered his garment bag out of the closet before stepping into the bathroom to change.

He stared at himself in the mirror, fidgeting nervously with his jacket sleeves. Was it too much? There was no changing it now.

Markus took a deep breath. They had a statement to make.

When Markus stepped back out, Connor's step stuttered when he caught sight of him.

Markus raised his eyebrows.

Connor never tripped.

"What do you think?" he asked, gesturing to his orange suit and blue paisley tie.

"Its..." Connor's LED spun yellow. "...bright. It suits you."

Markus smiled wryly. "You can say you don't like it."

"No! I do! I just didn't expect it from you," Connor rubbed the back of his neck. "You tend towards more neutral or dark tones in your wardrobe, but this compliments you just as well."

Warmth spread through Markus's chest. "Does it?"

Connor nodded, gaze darting between Markus and the floor. "Your eyes. Orange is a natural contrast for blue and green, correct?"

"That's what I told Simon with the tie," Markus laughed. "He said it wouldn't work."

"It does," Connor assured, then paused as his LED flashed yellow again. "We have to leave now if we want to be on time."

"Right, let's go."

Connor drove their rental car through the city. Markus watched the store fronts and people as they passed. Lights turned on as the sun began to set, casting the sky in an orange brilliant enough to challenge his suit.

There weren't near as many androids wandering about as there were in Detroit. Unease settled in his gut like it always did when they left home.

He often worried they fought for the rights of a people who weren't there anymore.

Connor pulled into a line of cars waiting for a valet.

There wasn't time to worry now.

Connor handed off the keys as they stepped out of the car. Almost instantly, Markus could hear the snapping shutters of cameras.

He didn't care for the paparazzi.

Connor gave him an encouraging nod, fixing his own tie as they stepped onto the pavement and followed the trail of humans filing inside.

"Markus! Are you nervous about the debates?"

Markus shook his head. "No, we are prepared for the days to come."

"Markus! Who are you wearing?"

"Uh," he glanced down at his store-bought suit, "a small brand."

"Over here! Markus! Are you seeing anyone?"

"N-no comment."

"Markus! Look here! Markus!"

Connor rested his hand on the small of Markus's back and walked him past the crowd of cameras.

"I'm glad only reputable media are allowed inside the gala," Connor said as they escaped the camera flash.

"Sometimes those news crews are just as bad as they are, though," Markus sighed.

They stepped through the front doors and Connor caught Markus's arm, gently leading him aside so other attendees could pass.

"What?" Markus asked.

"Your tie," Connor murmured, reaching out and adjusting the blue paisley silk. He patted it smooth. His hand lingered on his chest for just a moment longer than Markus expected.

"Everything will be alright. You need to relax," Connor said, his voice still soft.

Markus glanced up from Connor's hand to his warm brown eyes. He had forgotten the detective could see his stress levels.

"Right. Relaxed," he nodded.

Connor nodded in return.

They stepped out into the glimmering lights of the ballroom. Tables encircled the dance floor. Each one was lit by small candles, glowing within crystalline vases.

The dance floor itself was a large square comprised of dark marble tiles. It currently was empty, aside from a few servers who crossed it. Most of the human guests seemed to be still eating dinner, a portion of the gala that Markus and Connor decided they didn't need to be present for.

Heads turned as Markus and Connor descended the short staircase out of the foyer.

Markus felt his heart beat faster. Connor's hand rested on his shoulder, pushing it down as he raised them with tension.

"Deep breaths," he whispered.

Markus nodded, inhaling slowly. They bypassed the dance floor, moving towards their seats. The table they had been assigned to already had occupants.

Connor pulled out the chair for Markus as three humans watched them with varying degrees of skepticism.

"Good evening," Markus greeted as Connor sat beside him. Their knees bumped together beneath the table.

The humans glanced between each other, their attempts at subtlety failing.

A red-haired man with a spattering of freckles on one side of his face tugged at his bowtie and cleared his throat. "Good evening. You're, uh, Markus, right?"

"I am," Markus nodded and motioned to his right. "This is Connor."

"Pleasure to meet you," Connor said.

"I'm, uh, you can call me Ash, it's, uh, nice to meet you too." Ash stood and reached across the table, hand held out to shake theirs.

Markus's scanner identified the man: Ashton Conley, husband of Belgian ambassador Quinn Conley. The ambassador looked tense, pale eyes darting between his husband and the androids.

Markus reached out and shook his hand. Ash's grip was firm, but not overbearing. Connor did the same.

"Is this your first gala?" Ash asked as he sat back down.

"Yes," Markus answered, not pointing out that a White House Gala hadn't been held since before the fall revolution.

"Mine too. They really go all out at these, huh?" Ash flashed a nervous smile.

Markus felt his stress levels drop lower. At least he wasn't the only one anxious about being there.

"The decor is exquisite, and I'm sure the food is as well," he returned a smile to Ash. The human visibly relaxed, adjusting his bowtie some more.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to it," he laughed at himself. "This is the first time one has lined up with one of my school breaks. Normally Quinn has to go by himself," he patted the ambassador on the knee.

"You're in school?" Connor asked.

"I teach." Ash beamed with pride. "It's not glamorous, but it's good work."

"Dear," the ambassador said quietly, drawing Ash's attention away. "Let me fix your bowtie, it's crooked again."

Markus glanced away, letting them have a private moment as the ambassador reached out and straightened the tie. Connor caught his eye and gave him a small smile.

Ash leaned forward to speak again when the band picked up their volume. On the stage above the orchestra, a spotlight shone upon a podium. Applause filled the room as President Warren crossed the stage, security on either side of her.

Markus leaned back in his seat while Connor rested his elbows on the table.

"Hello, and welcome to the annual White House Gala. It is a pleasure to have you all here tonight," the President's voice drawled out over the sound system, her accent catch the long vowel sounds in her distinguishable manner.

"It is with a happy heart that I see familiar faces and new ones. Growth is the essence of our nation. As times change, so must we."

Connor and Markus shared a glance with each other.

"As recent events have shown, in times of massive crisis and transformation, that is when we as a people unite, just as we are united here tonight."

Markus could hear the light shuffle of her note cards carry through the microphone.

"I thank you for your support and patience as we adapt to our new world. Please enjoy yourselves tonight."

The crowd applauded again as Warren nodded and stepped off stage once more.

"Brief as always," Markus said under his breath. He caught the flicker of Connor's smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Brevity is the soul of wit," Connor whispered back. "....or it would be, if she had any wits."

Markus was glad for the noise in the room, lest anyone else overhear the awful snorting laugh he let out.

"Don't cause a scene," he playfully scolded as he composed himself.

Connor merely shrugged and leaned back in his chair, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

Light tempoed music struck up again as the presidential march ended.

A flurry of activity spread across the room as plates were carried away and people began moving between tables, mingling with other guests. A few couples even stepped out onto the dance floor.

Ash looked between the dancers and the rest of the table.

"Quinn? Can we?"

The ambassador smiled and nodded, taking Ash's hand and leading him out to the glossy black tile.

The third guest at the table, a gray-haired woman, registered in Markus's systems as retired lieutenant general Marie Augustine. She hardly looked across the table at them, aside to only tilt her nose a little higher after each glance.

He felt a pressure on his knee. Connor leaned his leg against his in comfort.

Right, he had to relax.

A woman in a deep blue cocktail dress approached their table.

"Senator Thompson, how nice to see you again," Markus greeted.

"Oh Markus, we're so glad you could make it," the senator smiled, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she tilted her head.

"We wouldn't miss it," Markus smiled back, but it faltered as the senator's sharp gaze turned to Connor.

"Senator, this is Connor. He assists in running New Jericho, as well as our campaigns for android rights," he introduced, gesturing to the detective.

"Connor? So that's your name." The senator's smile changed. It was only slight, but it made Markus's skin prickle. "Everyone's been so curious about you."

Connor raised his eyebrows. "They have?"

"Absolutely! We all want to know more about the android who led the thousands through the streets of Detroit. Oh! You should speak to Congressman Sameel's wife, she's a Detroit native and had been just _dying_ to know more."

"Uhm, certainly, we can introduce ourselves. Where is-"

"She's dancing there with her husband. C'mon, let's go cut in." Senator Thompson took a hold of Connor's arm.

Connor glanced at Markus. "Is this alright?"

Markus took too long to answer. "Y-yes, of course. I'll hold our seats in the meantime."

He watched as the senator whisked Connor onto the dance floor. Connor adapted to her with all the grace Markus expected from him. They waltzed their way to the Congressman with ease. Connor twirled the Senator like it was second nature.

The pairs traded off, and Connor now led Mrs. Sameel, who looked to be a little starstruck by her dancing partner.

Markus understood that feeling.

What he didn't understand was the cold sensation sinking through his chest into his gut.

He didn't have long to ponder on it. He felt a light touch on his shoulder.

"Lady Tennyson, it's been a while." Markus forced a smile for her. Elizabeth Tennyson, lady by marriage, socialite by trade, had curly bronze hair and a smile famous for it's manipulative charms.

"It certainly has. Would you care to catch up during a dance?" she asked, holding her hand out to him. Markus nodded and lightly held it, walking out to the floor with her.

They chatted pleasantly through a few songs, but Markus barely retained what she said. His gaze kept being drawn to the warm gray tuxedo on the other side of the dance floor.

Connor had a different partner now, also locked in conversation. Markus spun Lady Tennyson. When he caught her, Connor had switched partners again.

The dance floor filled with people.

Markus could only catch glimpses of Connor as he also traded partners a few times.

After the seventh song, he excused himself and stepped away to find their table.

Markus withheld a sigh as he sat in the chair nearest the floor, ignoring the placard with his name on it. No one else was sitting there anyway.

The music changed, picking up tempo. The crowd adjusted accordingly.

Connor spun partners quickly, passing between Senate, Congress, and spouses halfway between songs. His hand rested on their waists. He tilted his head as they spoke to him, nodding encouragingly. The cold tension within Markus grew stronger.

At one point, Connor worked his way to the edge of the dance floor. He glanced over the shoulder of Spokesman Trenton and caught Markus's eye.

Connor smiled.

It was small, and shy, like most of his smiles, but it still managed to be the most brilliant thing in the room.

When Connor turned again, focused on the spokesman, the smile was gone.

Realization hit Markus like a sour bite of lemon.

He was jealous.

And he wasn't certain he had ever been jealous before.

He looked away. His mind roiled with this new emotion. Now wasn't the time to recalibrate his systems. He had an reputation to keep, minds to change, progress to be made.

Yet all he wanted to do was look at the dancing.

He dismissed the irrational mission from his HUD. The night had just begun. He couldn't spend it wallowing in... jealousy.

Why was he jealous?

It didn't make sense.

He's the one who excused himself from dancing. If he really wanted the attention he would've stayed out there.

Markus knew that line of thought wasn't right.

_Deep breaths._

Markus sighed, slow and controlled.

The truth?

He didn't like sharing Connor.

Not with those humans who'd do nothing but use him and misunderstand his curious way of thinking. They looked at him as a commodity. They wouldn't care to learn his real worth.

Markus shook his head at himself.

Maybe he was the one spending too much time with North.

A sound at his side brought him out of his mired thoughts.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be gone so long," Connor apologized, adjusting his tie.

"That's alright," Markus answered, even though it wasn't. His gut still felt cold.

Connor tilted his head slightly. Then he extended his hand out to Markus.

"Let's go dance near the band. I have some intel I don't want being overheard."

Markus let Connor help him up and lead him back to the dance floor. Connor fixed Markus's lapel before resting a hand on his shoulder, letting Markus hold him at the waist.

"North, Simon, and Josh have landed safely in LA," Connor reported as they swayed to the beat.

"That's good," Markus said, not quite sure why they needed privacy for this when it could easily have been transmitted wirelessly.

Connor then leaned close, his cheek brushing against Markus's. "Senator Tennyson is making a bid for presidency," he whispered. Markus's could almost feel the light touch of his lips as he spoke.

Markus raised his eyebrows while he tried to lower his heart rate. "Is that so? It'll tear a rift in their friendship."

"Mrs. Sameel says her husband and Tennyson are vying to be running mates, which suits her just fine," Connor laughed, barely audible, breathy and dry. "She hates when the congressman is home. It interrupts her _fun_."

Markus bit his lip to stop his own laugh. "I see now why we need to keep this hush hush."

Markus spun Connor, catching a glimpse of his smile before drawing him back in.

"Extra hush hush. Ambassador Clements is known for her interest in fun," Connor said.

"I thought Clements was known for her interest in climate conservation efforts."

"She is...until she gets known for the checks she's receiving from Big Oil."

Markus couldn't contain his laugh this time.

Connor shushed him. "You'll get us caught," he teased.

"You're the one saying this outloud," Markus countered, spinning Connor again.

Connor tapped his LED with his index finger. "I didn't want anyone to think we were gossiping about them."

They whispered secrets for the rest of the song and into the next. The Capitol was a pit of alliances and betrayals. The press, and certainly the state of the Union, would be in uproar if anyone caught wind of the things the detective's ears had managed to hear.

When it ended, they released each other. Markus's hand lingered in Connor's, his fingers tracing over the scar on Connor's palm.

Ash and the ambassador were at the table when they returned to their seats. The lieutenant general was not.

"Looked like you two had fun," Ash said as he smiled warmly at them. Quinn joined him in welcoming them back, moving empty glasses of wine out of their way so they could talk.

"We could say the same of you," Connor teased. Markus raised his eyebrows. Connor rarely used sass with strangers.

Ash blushed while Quinn chuckled.

"He loves to dance. If teaching hadn't caught his heart, I'm sure he'd be on Broadway," Quinn said, patting Ash's hand. Their rings glinted in the candlelight.

"You know my heart is yours," Ash teased back. The ambassador cleared his throat and tried to hide behind a napkin as it was his turn to blush.

"Is there a particular style of dance you favor over others?" Markus asked, earning a relieved smile from Quinn as the attention was taken off of him.

Ash leaned forward excitedly. "Well, ballroom is always so romantic, so I try to keep up with that. The traditional Broadway style was my big thing when I was younger, but I'm not near as energetic as I used to be."

"We just need to get your tap shoes down from storage, dear," Quinn said after a sip of wine.

Connor tilted his head. "I'm not too familiar with the art of dance. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there a difference between standard theatrical dance and tap dance?"

"Certainly! There's a lot of nuances to stage choreography in how a style manifests. These days there's rarely anything that is strictly one style unless it's for a specific competition, but even then-"

"Markus! Cathy Patrine, KNC, how are you?" A reporter with a tight bun sat down diagonally from Markus. Behind her was a man with a professional-grade camera.

"We're in the middle of a conversation," Markus said, keeping the terse tone out of his voice. "Now isn't the time for interviews."

He turned to Ash. "My apologies, please continue."

Ash nervously glanced at the camera, sinking back in his chair. "R-right, uh, so, usually, show style is all about big expression, because the back of the theater needs to be able to see it. And with tap, it's really more-"

"Any comment on the recent development of android rights overseas?" The reporter interrupted again, an audio recorder in her hand.

Markus didn't look at her. "Tap is more about the sound, right?" he asked Ash with an encouraging nod.

Ash shrunk further away, his voice soft. "Y-yeah, sort of, um, it's more like...well..."

"Markus! Android Leader! Look here!" Another crew walked over to their table, camera flashing before Markus could even reprimand the other reporter further.

"Maybe...we should go..." Ash half-whispered to Quinn.

The ambassador nodded. "Let's go get some air," he looked to Markus not unkindly. "It was lovely sitting with you. I do hope we get to see you again before the night ends."

Markus gave him an apologetic smile. "Yes, of course. It was wonderful meeting you both. If we happen to miss each other, please feel free to reach out the New Jericho. Perhaps we can arrange another m-"

"Markus, here!"

There was a flash of movement.

A small, black object pelted through the air. Connor rocketed to his feet and shielded Markus with his body. Beneath the rustle of Connor's suit, he heard the sound of something small clattering on the floor, followed by silence.

Connor uncoiled from around him.

A pen rolled across the floor. A cameraman's hand was still poised in the air from where he tossed it at them.

Markus could almost feel the frigid cold of the rage that settled into Connor's posture and he straightened his spine and pulled his shoulders back. His jaw set, his hand on Markus's shoulder gripped tight.

"We're leaving," Markus said at the same moment that Connor practically lifted him from the chair. They pushed past the news crews and stunned onlookers. Connor shifted his grip, one hand holding Markus's forearm, the other on his back, pushing him forward.

They retrieved their car from the valet and returned to the hotel in silence, only broken by a brief call from the gala organizer who profusely apologized for the incident.

Markus leaned back into the pillows with a sigh while Connor changed in the other room.

Humans were exhausting.

He stared at the ceiling before letting his eyes slowly close.

"Don't sleep in your tuxedo," Connor teased, his voice slightly strained, "we don't want another incident."

Markus opened his eyes again as Connor crossed past the foot of the bed, dressed in a long sleeved t-shirt and DPD issued sweatpants.

"I was just resting my eyes," Markus said, pushing himself upright.

"Of course you were," Connor smirked.

Markus waved away his judgement and trudged to the bathroom to change.

With their suits safely stored, they turned out the lights.

Markus resumed laying on his back while Connor curled up on his side, facing towards the door. Leave it to him to be on guard even in his sleep. Markus looked over at him. Connor's LED lazily spun blue. There was still a smudge of ink on his neck where he had blocked a pen from hitting Markus. Not that they had been in any real danger from the paparazzi's office supplies. It didn't stop a wave of gratitude from washing over Markus all the same.

The only sounds in the room were the soft hum of the air conditioning unit and Connor's quiet breathing.

It wasn't the first time they had shared a bed. Connor was a respectful bedmate, staying still and quiet throughout the night, unless something else moved first. He was such a light sleeper, Markus wondered if the other android really slept at all, or if he just faked his stasis in order to stay on alert.

Markus glanced at his sleeping form. Connor had been furious, although he hid it well.

Even now, in his sleep, Connor seemed to be wound tight, curled in on himself. Markus sat up carefully as Connor's LED spun, blinking blue, yellow, back to blue. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched Connor dream.

That smile quickly fell as the LED kept spinning yellow, yellow to red, yellow, red.

Connor twitched, an image appeared in his palm, then flickered away. It happened once more, gone before Markus could make sense of it, then a projection lit from Connor's LED, hovering in the air beside the bed.

Glowing before him was a man holding a small child on a ledge, gun in hand.

Static flickered.

Connor and the man were falling.

Static again.

Hank being pushed off a building, hands clinging to the edge.

Markus heard Connor's breathing increase sharply, his body trembled.

Static.

A knife through Connor's hand, pinning him as the culprit ran away.

"Connor. Connor, wake up," Markus put his hand on Connor's shoulder, shaking him gently.

Connor gasped, twisting sharply and catching hold of Markus's wrist.

"Hey! It's okay," Markus soothed. "It's just me."

"Markus," Connor breathed, letting go. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, just take it easy. You're safe."

"Of course it's safe. Why wouldn't it be?" Connor asked, brow furrowed.

"You looked like you were having a nightmare," Markus decided it best not to share what he saw. "I know how disorienting those can be." He usually didn't sleep during thunderstorms.

"I'm fine," Connor said, his voice breaking slightly on the lie. He rolled over, his back to Markus once again, curling up tighter than before.

"No you're not." Markus leaned over and flipped on the lamp on his bedside table. He dug through his wallet and pulled out a quarter.

"Here," he said, holding it out to Connor.

Connor's brow furrowed. "I'm not a vending machine."

"I know that." Markus moved in closer, pressing the coin into Connor's hand. "You should show me some of your coin tricks. It'll take your mind off things."

Connor stared at Markus, then the quarter in his palm, silent for a moment. Then he flipped the coin onto his knuckles and rolled it back and forth over his fingers.

Markus laid on his side as he watched, propping his head up in his hand.

Connor's tricks became more intricate, flicking the coin between his hands. His LED glowed blue, calm and unwavering. He caught the quarter between his fingers and held it back out to Markus.

"You should try."

Markus sat up. "Me? I don't think that's in my programming."

"Neither was dancing, and you picked that up just fine." Connor smiled, and Markus felt his face grow hot as he took the quarter.

He flipped it into the air a few times and caught it easily each time. Not much of a trick, though. Markus tried to work it from his palm to the back of his hand and almost immediately lost it in the sheets.

Connor retrieved it and took Markus's hand in his, balancing the quarter on his knuckles for him.

"Think of it like gears and cogs. The parts have to move in time for them to mesh together." Connor rolled the quarter over Markus's hand, moving his fingers for him to catch and nestle the coin before moving it to the next.

Markus tried it on his own next. The coin wobbled on its path over his hand, but it didn't fall. He felt himself smiling as he worked it back and forth.

"See? I knew you could," Connor said as Markus set the quarter back on the bedside table.

"Only with your guidance," Markus replied, turning the light off again and laying on his back.

Connor faced the door again, curling up small. Markus watched as his form stayed tense and still. He studied Connor for a moment longer before rolling onto his side, pressing his chest to Connor's back and draping and arm over his waist.

"What are you doing?" Connor asked.

"Relax," Markus whispered, trying to sound as reassuring as Connor had during the gala. "It's my turn to shield you."

They laid in silence for a time.

Markus tried to stay awake in case the nightmares started again. Slowly, he felt Connor relax beneath his arm, uncoiling ever so slightly and easing against Markus's chest.

Connor smelled like warm printer ink, he realized sleepily. It was so faint that Markus would have easily missed it any other time. Printer ink, crisp linen, and a tinge of whiskey and smoke.

He wasn't sure what to do with the information his sensors provided, but he stored them in his files anyway.

Assuming he was asleep, Markus carefully settled into his pillow, trying not to jostle the bed, when Connor's hand took hold of his, pulling it against his chest. Markus could feel the steady thrum of Connor's heart beating beneath his palm.

"Thank you," Connor whispered, his breath warm on Markus's knuckles.

"Anytime," Markus said, earning a squeeze from Connor's grip.

Together, in the quiet of the night, they eased into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
